Depth of Instinct
by unecureuil87
Summary: Liz's curiosity gets the better of her, and it has unforeseen consequences. Werewolf!Fic
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I wasn't sure if I should put this as T or M, but as the violence in the first chapter doesn't go beyond what we've seen in TBL already, I've listed it as T. Still, warning for blood and violence in the first chapter.

It took her nearly a week to even figure out that Red had a separate operation going, one that wasn't related to the arms smuggling ringleader that the Post Office was working to bring down.

It then took her _another_ week of subtly pestering Red, research, and something Red had accidently let slip in her hearing to figure out that whatever he was up to was culminating to something going down at the docks that night.

That knowledge led to her to hiding inside a warehouse in the shadows behind some crates a safe distance away from where a group of nervous looking men were trying to unload a crate from a large van. From the distance she was at, she couldn't get see what was inside of it, but that didn't matter. She could hear whatever was in the box perfectly fine from where she was at.

A wild animal. A very _angry _wild animal, if the snarls and growls that echoed through the warehouse were anything to go by. The men attempted to unload the van without having to actually touch the cage the animal was in with their hands, fear evident in their jerking movements, and they flinched every time the animal threw itself against the side of the cage and caused the cage shudder against the strain.

Red's sardonic voice startled her, his voice raised to be heard above the ruckus coming from the crate. "Do try not to get bit; I don't think you'd like to get what he has." Liz peered around the crates she was hiding behind, careful to keep to the shadows. As much she wanted to figure out whatever had Red sneaking about and so utterly distracted, she'd didn't want to alert _any_ of the people involved to her presence.

Red's people were there as well, some of whom she recognized – Dembe, for instance, was hovering protectively near Red – and all appeared tense and uneasy. Even Red, leaning against a dark colored van in seeming nonchalance, had a tense air about him.

An angry, clipped voice responded to Red, "The damn tranqs wore off; it was like we were giving it baby aspirin instead of elephant tranquilizers."

_Elephant tranquilizers? That crate looks barely big enough to hold a large dog. Those should have been enough to kill whatever was in the crate, let alone be able wake up early. _Her musings her interrupted by more voices, too low to be heard, and she had to focus on hearing as much as she could. Red spoke first, his calm yet annoyed tones easily discernable from the nervous high pitched ones of the others. The voices rose enough for her to make out what they were saying only a few more times, the words becoming short and irritated as the evening wore on.

When she sensed the meeting had come to an end and the crate being loaded into Red's van, she started making her was stealthily toward the large open window she'd come in at. The group who had arrived with the wild animal had left, leaving Red's people with the task of loading it themselves.

Red's car would have to come near her position in order to leave the warehouse, and it would be best if she withdrew to a safe distance. Red possessed an uncanny knack of being able to locate her, and she would rather _not_ see if that ability stretched to being able to find her in a dark warehouse.

She could ask him about his sudden desire to keep murderous pets tomorrow, in the safe environment of her office at the Post Office when he came for his Friday visit. She'd have the upper hand there, and he wouldn't be able to make as much of a scene there.

Then, he would have all weekend to calm down before she was obliged to see him again.

This plan of escaping unseen and unnoticed was sadly short lived.

The first sign that things had gone disastrously wrong was a muffled yelp of pain, followed by the sound of the crate dropping and metal screeching as it crashed noisily to the hard cement floor, and she turned around just in time to see a wolf, _a freaking enormous wolf_, squeeze itself from the now broken door of the crate.

Red's people screamed in terror as the wolf brushed past them, and the foolishly stupid people who tried to stop the animal by grabbing at it met a grizzly end at the wolf's teeth, their death cries cut short with distressing abruptness as the wild animal tore away their ability to make noise. It bounded away from them, seeking an exit, eyes practically glowing with madness in the low light of the warehouse. It weaved around the large, stacked shipping crates, somehow always managing to put them between it and the bullets Red's people were currently shooting at it. She could hear Red calling out orders, and the warehouse's large doors clicked shut before the animal could slip through them. _Shoot to kill _was his other order, not that his men needed any encouragement. It had already torn two men's throats out, so she could well understand that feeling. It was perhaps a little odd that _Red_ was so willing to have it killed, not after all the trouble he apparently went through to get ahold of it, but maybe he realized that keeping a huge, insane, people killing wolf wasn't worth the risk. The wolf dodged out of sight, adeptly using the shadows to disappear from sight as it attempted to either find an exit or the opportunity to pick off Red's people one by one.

Fear crept up her spine, her blood like ice water in her veins, as her predicament dawned on her.

With the doors closed the only exit left was the window she had come in at. The one she was currently standing in front of, not ten feet from it.

Liz pressed closer to the stack of shipping crates she was huddled by and pulled out her weapon, clicking off the safety and getting it ready in case the wolf came after her. She wasn't quite sure of her ability to shoot a moving target in the darkness of the warehouse, but it was better than nothing. With the growling of the wolf echoing around the warehouse and the loud voices of Red's men as they coordinated their efforts, the soft sounds she was making went unnoticed.

Between the dark color of the wolf and the dim light of the warehouse, she didn't see the wolf until it was nearly on top of her. Liz shrunk closer to the metal crates, hoping it would pass through the window with noticing her.

It paused, nose in the air as sniffed the air. _And looked straight at her. _

She froze in place for one heart stopping moment as the wolf took a step toward her, still sniffing the air in a perplexed manner. Liz shuffled slowly to the side, moving away from the window. It was, perhaps, time to take whatever Red's response would be to seeing her here in exchange for safety. Maybe if it saw she wasn't going to try to stop its progress, it would ignore her long enough for her to announce herself to Red.

Her luck wasn't that good.

It matched her movement, blocking her from the relative safety that Red provided.

It sneered at her, lips curling up an oddly human like expression of menacing glee, the expression made all the more horrific by the blood still dripping from its muzzle.

The wolf took another deep breath, and with a sickening feeling, she realized what it was doing. It was sniffing her, taking in her scent. Whatever it smelled made its manic expression take on a triumphant air.

It stalked toward her, a rumbling growl emitting from its mouth as hunched its hind legs in preparation to leap at her.

Her mouth opened in an involuntary shout, Red's name coming out in a terrified plea for help even as she brought her gun up to defend herself.

Her earlier worry over her ability to shoot was irreverent now as Liz thrust her gun against the wolf's blood matted chest as her free arm came up to ward off the teeth heading toward her throat. It crashed into her, knocking her harshly against the hard surface of the steel behind her as the wolf's muzzle closed around her arm instead of her throat. The razor sharp teeth cut easily through the fabric of her jack, ripping through it and biting through to her skin. It growled in frustration as it bit down, but she didn't allow it the chance to try again. She squeezed the trigger on her gun, eyes closing reflexively as she swiftly fired three times at where she hoped its heart was.

The wolf coughed wetly, its eyes widening in shock at the sudden pain, and the bite hold it had on her arm loosened, then let go completely. It stumbled away from her, trailing blood as it went, before it collapsed to hard cement floor with a sickeningly wet splat.

She stood there, arm dripping blood as she stared down at the now dead wolf, the situation catching up with her now that the danger had passed.

It wasn't long before she heard the hard pounding of feet converging on her location, and Red's shocked sounding, "_**Lizzie?!**_"

Liz looked up at him, stumbling back against shipping crate as vertigo came over her, the dull ache in her arm suddenly transforming into a searing pain that shot up her arm. Her vision narrowed, a choked cry of agony ripping through her throat, and she clutched her injured arm close to her body.

The last thing she saw before she blacked out was the shocked and utterly _horrified _expression on Red's face.


	2. Chapter 2

The bed beneath her dipped, the movement rousing her from unconsciousness into a blurry, pained state of half-awareness. The heat enveloping her body immediately had her trying to kick off the light sheet covering her, but she abandoned her halfhearted attempt as she became distracted by the feeling of something scratchy being pressed against her forehead.

Liz groaned woozily in protest and raised an uncoordinated hand to dislodge the thing on her forehead, only to have it intercepted and pushed firmly away from her forehead. Liz moaned softly in protest.

Belatedly, she remembered realized that opening her eyes usually followed waking up, and opened her eyes to see Red still leaning half over her as if ready to ward off her hands again.

Her voice scratched her raw throat as she attempted to speak, but she managed to croak out a questioning, "Red?" Her throat felt like she had been screaming for hours.

He shushed her, pressing cool hands against her face as he said, "You have a fever, Lizzie. You need to leave the fever strip alone so we can track if it gets too high." Before he even finished the sentence, Liz attention was distracted by the pain flaring in her arm. She started to turn her head to look at it, but decided to move her arm into her field of vision instead when her vision blurred and her head swam alarming at the movement.

It was covered in gauze and bandages. She frowned at it, remembered, and croaked out "I got bit by your pet."

"My pet? Lizzie, that wasn't my-_ouch_!" Red broke off to rub at his nose where Liz's hand had accidently smacked it in her attempt to show him the injured part of her arm. He grabbed her wrist and held it a safe distance away from his face. "He wasn't a pet. I don't quite know how to- Lizzie, _leave it alone!_" He released her injured arm to swat at the other as she once again attempted to take the itchy thing off of her forehead. "Just, please. Leave it alone. We need to make sure you fever doesn't get too high."

An inkling of fear hit her as his words momentarily broke through the fog surrounding her brain. She swallowed, "How high?"

"It's not at a dangerous level anymore; we just need to watch it in case it climbs higher again."

Her momentary coherence was sadly short lived. "Can't we watch something else?" It was getting easier to speak, even if Red wasn't listening to her. Red. Reeeed. Red Reddington. Too many reds. She tried it aloud, elongating the vowel sound, "Reeed."

All the movement was making her arm hurt even more. Did Red know her arm was hurting? She attempted to make sure by showing it to him again. This time he caught it before it could make bodily contact with his face.

Red resumed running his hands over her face, and she leaned into the cool touch with an unhappy whimper as the low level pain that accompanied the heat enveloping her body abruptly spiked; her body curling as she tried to ride out the excruciating agony that burned through her veins. Red's reacted quickly, scrambling fully up onto the bed and scooping her up as he did so to tuck her against his body so she could curl against him. Red felt delightfully cool against her heated skin, and she tucked her face more fully into his neck with a pained whimper.

Red's arms wrapped around her, his hands rubbing in soothing circles against her back as he pulled her closer to him. "You're past the most dangerous part, Lizzie, and luckily you were unconscious through most of it," he said soothingly, "this is just the after effects, sweetheart. The pain shouldn't last much longer, and neither should the delirium."

She squirmed against the biting pain, her body not comprehending that the pain came from inside of her and was not something she could escape from. Liz pressed closer to him as if trying to crawl inside of him, and let another whimper of pain out.

The pain was as short lived as he said. After another minute of bone wrenching pain it leveled off again to its previous level, leaving her gasping and boneless in relief.

Exhaustion hit her once more, the exertion of the last few hours catching up with her, and with Red's voice, his tone soft and comforting, gave into the darkness raising up to meet her.

Several hours later when she woke up once more, the sun was just rising in the sky. It peeked through the closed blinds in slim strips of sunlight onto her face, the light rousing her from sleep.

Liz sat up stiffly, groaning as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and moved away from where the sun was hitting the bed.

The events of last night came easily to her; though the parts of the night where she'd woken up near delirious were far less clear than her recollection of being attacked by a giant wolf.

"I see you're feeling better."

Liz jumped in surprise, whipping around to face the location of Red's voice. Her body protested the quick movement. On a plush red chair in the corner of the room sat Red, apparently waiting for her to wake up.

"Watching someone sleep is a little creepy, Red." Liz turned to face him. "I feel like we've gone over this before," she paused for effect, and then continued, "In fact, we _have_. The last time you decided to let yourself into my flat."

Red didn't take her bait though. If anything, his expression became graver. "Liz, this isn't the time fool around. There is something we need to discuss."

Her stomach lurched as all the possibilities jumbled through her brain, "Did the wolf have rabies or something?"

"No, and it wasn't a-"

"Flesh eating bacteria?" Liz interrupted. Red narrowed his eyes at her, obviously displeased at the interruption, but she ignored the look and continued, "I was watching an episode of House and–"

"Werewolf."

Liz stopped, eyes widening for a second before she shook her head. She cradled her injured arm close to her torso and said, "Really, Red? I thought this wasn't the time for fooling around. I know you're probably… unhappy… about me showing up at the docks, but I don't think this is…" She trailed off, confused about what she was reading in his expression.

"I am not trying to fool you. It was a werewolf. A very dangerous, slightly insane werewolf."

"Did get hit on the head on something? Drink something odd?"

"No," Red said, voice dead serious. "Once again. It was a werewolf."

"Red. Werewolves don't exist." Concerned that Red appeared to have started to believe in imaginary animals, she leaned forward to peer more closely at his face. His eyes were tired, stressed. "Have you been under a lot of stress recently?"

Red sat back and stared at her for a few seconds. "Perhaps visual proof of the existence of werewolves will convince you." Red stood up, going over to position himself between her and door. She turned on the bed to follow him as he moved. "Try not to panic. I'm not sure how well you'll be able to understand me yet, but trust when I say I am not going to hurt you."

"Red, you're starting to wor– Red, _what are you doing_?" She squeaked as spun around to put her back to Red, facing the chair. "Oh my god. You've lost it. How am I going to explain this at work?" She peaked behind her, saw that Red had already lost his shirt and was working on stripping off his pants as well, and spun back around, cheeks turning bright red in embarrassment. "_Put your clothes back on_!" She hissed at him.

"Humans and their embarrassment over naked bodies. So predictable. Calm down, Lizzie, you can keep your back to me if it makes you feel better. I'll let you know when you can turn back around. You'll have to work on that though, Lizzie, needing privacy every time you needed to change could cause problems eventually."

She turned to snap at him, annoyance momentarily overpowering embarrassment, only squeak again at the sight of him in boxer briefs. She turned to face the chair once more, snarling at him when he chuckled at her discomfort. Her cheeks continued to burn, and Liz pressed her hands against them in effort to cool them down.

_And that answers the boxers or briefs questions. Dear god, Raymond Redding just stripped off behind me. He's truly lost it. What did I do to deserve this? _Liz shifted uneasily, not quite sure what to do in this situation. It wasn't like they had a class on what to do in case the criminal informant that had inserted himself into your life suddenly decided to strip off while in the same room as you.

Something behind her barked, making her jerk in surprise. She turned to glance behind her, and nearly fell off the bed in surprise as she scrambed back a few paces on the bed on her hands and knees.

A wolf. Another freaking huge wolf standing in-between her and door.

She glanced quickly around room. No Red. A shiver of fear ran through her, the memory of sharp teeth trying to clamp around her throat all too fresh.

The wolf didn't make any threatening movements, though, which allowed her to rally her nerves.

She glared suspiciously at the wolf. "You're not going to fool me. Somehow, Red managed to find a wolf with the same hair color, and then snuck you in without me noticing. _Why_, I don't know. But he is _not_ going to fool me into think he turned into a wolf. People don't _do_ that. And why is he collecting dangerous animals? A better question, why the hell does he want me to think he turned into a wolf?"

If she didn't know better, she would have sworn the wolf sighed in annoyance as it sat back on its hunches.

Had he somehow snuck out of the room without her noticing? Red's clothing was still folded on the dresser where he'd put it. Was he waiting outside the door? And as she could see his boxer-briefs folded neatly on top of the pile of clothing, completely nude?

At least this wolf didn't seem to be insanely murderous. But that didn't mean she liked being shut in a room with it. "Nice, Wolfy. I'm just going to slip by you, please don't eat me."

The wolf huffed in amusement in a decidedly unwolflike manner. She pushed that thought away, clinging to the idea that Red had somehow snuck the wolf in without her noticing.

She raised her voice so she could be heard outside of the room, eyeing the wolf nervously as she did so, "Red, you hear me? Jokes over, now come the hell back before I decide to find some way to break every bone in your body." She went to all fours on the bed, meaning to crawl to the far edge of the bed in order to make her way to the door while still keeping as much distance as possible between her and the wolf.

The wolf let out a series of canine noises, still sounding annoyed. It stood up, moving one step over to keep itself between her and the door, and then sat back down.

Liz dropped back to sitting crisscross on the bed. She stared at the wolf, at the familiar eyes in an unfamiliar face, with a sinking feeling in her stomach. She swallowed, quietly plaintive as she says, "He's not outside the door, is he? Or hiding under the bed." It was more of a statement than a question.

The wolf shook his in confirmation, the humanlike gesture an odd sight in canine form. She swallowed shakily, her last hope that this was some elaborate hoax on Red's part evaporating like rain on the parched desert floor.

She drew her knees up to her chest, injured arm tucked protectively against her chest, and wrapped her other arm across her knees to form a tight little ball. Red's wolf form was Great Dane sized, but of a stockier build than a Great Dane everhad. He was slightly smaller than the wolf – werewolf – that had attacked her last night, and unlike the dark coloring it had had, Red's fur had a lighter pattern of tans, greys, and light browns.

She stared blankly at him, eyes wide and face pale, unsure of just what her reaction should be over finding out that werewolves actually existed. That one was right in front of her.

And that _Red_ had been a werewolf _the whole time_, and she'd never noticed anything overly strange or out of the ordinary about him.

Sure there had been a few oddities, but she'd been able to pass them off as just another part of Red's eccentricities. She'd seen him under a full moon, for god's sake. Wasn't that the most basic things about werewolves?

No. It wasn't actually. The most basic thing that all werewolf legends seem to have was…

Oh, _crap_. She felt slivers hysteria start to work up spine. She curled protectively over the bite wound on her hand, hiding it completely from view. "Red… are werewolves contagious?"

Red's eyes, still recognizable even in their wolf form, looked at her sadly; answer clear in them even without words.

She closed her eyes, head dropping to rest on her eyes as she fought off shock and the stirrings of despair. The only reason Red would reveal himself to her, let her in on what evidently one of his best kept secrets was if that secret now pertained to her. She needed to hear it from Red. Liz shuddered, tightening the arm she had wrapped around her knees as she curled into a smaller ball. She words are muffled, but still audible as she quietly says, "Please, turn back. I believe you. Please, turn ba-back." Her voice catches harshly on the last word, and her jaw clenches shut.

The change back was quick, the soft _wooshing _noise noticeable in the quiet room now that she was listening for it. Then, the quiet sounds of Red getting dressed again. Although her earlier distress and the scene she'd made over Red's lack of clothing earlier seemed immature and unimportant in comparison to all that had come after it, the familiarity of seeing Red clad in most of his customary attire (dress pants and shirt, sleeves rolled up) was a welcome sight when she looked up the gentle caress of his hand along the back of her neck.

She shivered violently again, feeling cold even in the warmth of the room. Red eyed the shiver with concern, and pressed two fingers lightly against the inside of her wrist, no doubt taking her pulse, and whatever he read there had him grabbing the thick blanket from the foot of the bed. He sat down on the bed, his back against the headboard and pulled her too him, tucking her against his side and wrapping the blanket around the both of them. Liz curled back up into a ball against him, willingly burrowing as close to him as she could, and shuffled the blanket up until it covered most of her head.

"Shh, Lizzie, try to match my breathing. You've got a mild case of shock." More quietly he added, "I should have eased you into it more slowly. Your system wasn't ready to handle that after the night it had." He used the arm he had wrapped around her back to situate her more firmly against him and so her head was tucked underneath his chin protectively.

Liz spent the next few minutes struggling to keep her breathing in tune with his, eyes closed, nose pressed against the hollow above his clavicle taking in his scent with each deep breath she took. She allowed herself those moments of quiet, but the need to know overpowered the desire she had to continue to make-believe nothing had happened.

She'd never been good at lying, even to herself.

She turned her face and edged the slightest bit away so she could look at his face. His arms tightened for an instance, unwilling to let her put even the smallest amount of distance between them before they loosed slightly and allowed her the few inches she wanted.

"So… contagious?"

Red met her eyes, concern for her easily visible, "Are you sure you want to talk about this now?"

"I _need _to know, Red."

Red's eyes closed, and he nodded, evidently willing to let her judge how much she could take at this time.

"Most werewolves are not contagious. The werewolf last night, however, was. It's transmitted through blood, not saliva, which is another thing the movies got wrong. Getting bit isn't enough to transfer the condition."

"I got his – her? – blood on me, didn't I? Shooting something in the heart is a messy business. Did I catch it?"

"His. And yes, when he coughed up blood onto the bite wound on your arm, you were exposed to it. And it took. I can smell it on you. Only the beginning stages, the changes are gradual, but once you made it past the first few dangerous hours it was enough for another werewolf to smell it on you."

"Smell it on me? What do I smell like? Do I smell like the wolf from last night?" Her skin crawled at the notion of smelling like that _thing_ from last night.

Red closed the distance between them to press his nose against the underside of her jaw near her ear, and inhaled. "No, you certainly do _not_ smell like him." Red's voice had a bit of a growl to it, evidently as displeased as she was at even the notion of her smelling like the other werewolf.

She blinked and tensed; confused at having Red's face so close to hers and about how she should react to it. "Is this a werewolf thing?"

Red let out a little huff of amusement, and then withdrew to a more normal distance. "A bit. Although, if any other werewolf gets that close to your neck, you should snap at them with the aim to draw blood."

"But not if you do it?" Liz said dryly.

Unsurprisingly, he ignored that question. "Anyway, you still smell like you usually do, just with some added elements. Nothing like the wolf from last night. It doesn't work like that."

That was a relief, at least. "Am I contagious? Are _you _contagious?"

"No, neither of us is contagious. Our blood wouldn't do anything to a human, nor is it identifiable as anything other than human."

Liz blinked in confusion, and then decided to just take it at face value rather than trying to understand the science behind it. "You can change at will? Do you ever have to change?"

"Yes, I can change at will. And, no I don't ever _have_ to change. The movies got that wrong as well. The moon has no effect on us. We may be a bit more active during that night because it is easier to see, but that change is no difference than any other change."

"Will I be able to change at will?" The idea of being able to change, like Red had, in to a wolf, was foreign to her and strange to even contemplate.

"That's one of the last things to come, but yes, you will be able to." He paused. "You're acting awfully calm about this."

"I'm saving it for later, when I am alone in the shower," Liz said with mock lightness. Red frowned at her, but refrained from commenting as she continued, "How long do the changes take? What changes?"

"A month to two months. As for what changes you can expect… Mainly senses and instinctive responses. The senses in human form will always weaker than that of the wolf form, but still strong enough to pick up things a normal human would miss."

"Is that how you can usually find out where I am at?"

"One of the ways."

Liz dropped her head back to his shoulder, and she turned what she had learned over in her head. "And you're _sure_ I was infected? I don't feel any different."

"You most defiantly are, of that I am certain. For the most part, you won't feel any different. Your personality doesn't change. Things will just be a little louder, scents a little stronger, a little easier to identify. The instinctive responses you have to things will no doubt be the most… jarring part of the experience. Besides the whole physically changing into a wolf, of course."

"Undoubtedly. And what do you mean by instinctive responses?"

"Things that pertain to territory, personal space, social cues and dynamics, things like that. And on that note, I think you've had enough emotional upheaval for today."

Liz opened her mouth in protest, only to close it again at the look Red gave her. Then she sighed and nodded her head, acknowledging that some time to let it all sink in would be beneficial.

"Get some sleep, take a shower. You aren't expected at work today."

_Work_. Crap. "I forgot all about it, do I need to call in? Did you call in? What did you tell them? What excuse did you give to them as to why it was you that called instead of me?"

"In this case, we luckily have another werewolf on your team I could talk to and explain the situation too."

_Another_ werewolf? "Another werewolf? Who? Are you everywhere?"

"_We_ are actually rather uncommon, even rare. In this case it ju-"

"Is it Aram?" Liz interrupted hopefully. God, please don't let it be Ressler. The atmosphere between them had become a little chilly of late, and adding this to the situation wouldn't help. Red scowled at her, somehow displeased at the hopeful question. "What? I thought you liked Aram," Liz said, a little taken aback by the way he followed up the scowl by crowding into her space.

Which shouldn't have been possible, considering how close they had been before. Perhaps it was more his manner and posture that had changed, no longer relaxed and easy.

Red huffed in annoyance, and the moment passed. "No. It's Samar."

It was Liz's turn to curl her lip, "_Oh_." Of course it'd be her. Samar had had previous dealings with Red, hadn't she?

"Thought you'd like that." Red's mood shifted, apparently appeased by her dislike of Samar.

"I'm _not_ jealous of her."

"Of course not, dear." He stretched. "Anyway, I called her and explained the situation. She's making your excuses. Evidently I called you in on some last minute thing."

"How helpful of her."

"It is, isn't it? She's also agreed to tell you about the things I can't tell you about. So secretive, you female werewolves."

Red gave her one last squeeze, and then started to drawn away. "Will you be okay on your own? I still have some business to take care of because of last night, but that can easily be put off."

Liz shook her head. Being alone for a little bit was appealing, and she wanted to take a shower. "No, I'll be fine. If you could show me the bathroom, though, that would be good. I need to take a shower. I still have blood on me," she ended with disgust. Seeing Red's expression of uneasiness, she assured him, "I'll call you if I need you. But right now, I need some time by myself. Now, show me that shower."

Author's note: That's right, it's a werewolf fic! Well done those who guessed.


	3. Chapter 3

By midafternoon on Saturday, Liz had had enough of Red's overly protective hovering. As well-meaning as he no doubt was, his uncharacteristic clinginess was making her feel not unlike some poor baby bird with an overzealous protector. Red _hadn't _appreciated being called a mother hen, although the expression on his face when she had was rather worth having Red prove that he could both hover _and _give her the cold shoulder at the same time.

He couldn't be constantly with her, though, and she took the opportunity presented by Red having to make a series of business related calls to slip out unnoticed. Even on a Saturday Red had obligations he had to meet, and despite his clear desire not to leave her in peace for even ten minutes, his habit of secrecy won out.

When Red had gone to make his calls, she had faked being engrossed in some nature documentary. After waiting ten minutes for him to be suitably distracted, Liz had carefully snuck out and headed back to her apartment. It wasn't the best hiding place, but it at least had a sturdy deadbolt that would keep Red from traipsing in uninvited.

Going to a hotel was out of the question. Even if she wasn't feeling the need to barricade herself against the outside world inside of her familiar and easily secured apartment, dealing with Red when he was worried and annoyed over combing through the city for her was not something she felt up to dealing with.

Liz had even left a note for him. And while Red had sounded as she had predicted over the phone – angry, followed by frustrated, then finally cajoling – he had eventually calmed down and allowed her to talk him into letting her have her space – provided she allowed him some concessions of his own.

Her return to work the following Monday was strangely anti-climactic. Liz had expected for the bandage on her arm – the edge of which was just visible along the cuff of her long sleeved shirt – to draw some sort of comment or remark, but it went unnoticed by her colleagues. The previous night she'd even lain awake in her bed, the various possible – if somewhat implausible – scenarios of how someone might figure out about her new furry little problem leaving her unable to sleep until just a few hours before dawn.

All that anxiety, though, came out to be for naught. No one noticed anything.

For a group of supposedly seasoned _professional_ investigators, her colleagues were _peculiarly_ _lacking_ in attention to detail. No one seemed too nice anything out of the ordinary, which, while a relief, was more than a little off putting.

She suddenly became non-human, and no one even noticed? Liz saw these people practically every day, worked next to these people, even shared an office with one of them, and _no one _noticed_**anything**_out of the ordinary? Liz made a disgusted noise. Today wasn't even busy as Red seemed to be following through with his threat of making sure her work week was as boring as possible.

_Not_, Liz thought to herself in amusement, _that those had been his __**exact**__ words_. But the meaning behind them was accurate enough when translated out of Red-Speak and into the realm of reality. Red would allow her a week to adjust to what had happened on her own without him hovering. She'd bristled originally at the thought of him _allowing_ her to do _anything, _but as she was getting what she wanted in the end, decided to ignore the rather high handed manner in which he spoke.

Selective hearing was _very_ useful when you were dealing with Red.

Even if this Monday was shaping up to be the start of one of the most boring weeks yet at the black site. Not that there wasn't enough work to do today. Any big operation like the previous week's generated mountains of paperwork, but at least in the past there had always been the chance of _something_ more interesting popping up.

Now all Liz had to look forward to was paperwork, paperwork, and, for a change, _more paperwork_.

Oh, and disgusting three day old coffee.

Liz shook her head, upper lip curling as she peered into the congealed remains of the coffee with a grimace of distaste. "Why doesn't whoever was the last one to have coffee on Friday remember to empty the pot?"

"I think the real question should be why you still come in on Monday expecting it to be different," Samar said dryly from the doorway of the break room. Liz jerked in surprise at the unexpected answer, the stewed remains of the coffee inside the pot sluggishly responding to the movement like thick syrup. "_Speaking of surprises_… I was rather surprised to hear you were back in this morning."

Liz shot her a brief look of warning as she dumped the pot and the congealed mess inside of into the small metal sink. This wasn't the place to discuss that, nor did Liz _really_ want to discuss it with her. "Oh? No reason for me not to be here," Liz remarked mildly. It was too early in the day to start an argument, but that didn't mean she would go out of her way to make this conversation easy.

Samar approached the sink to stand beside her, lowering her voice as she said, "You shouldn't be here. Not until you have a handle on how _it_ will affect you." The other agent reached around Liz to pick up the soap, using the dirty coffee pot as an excuse in the event anyone became curious over their uncharacteristically close proximity.

Liz lowered her voice as well, "I feel _fine_." She stopped short of saying _now go away_, but rather hoped Samar would get the message anyway. Or, at least, hoped that she would get the message to drop the subject.

Samar leaned closer to her for a second; inhaling silently, but leaned back away before Liz could 'accidently' elbow her in the side. "You're anxious and stressed. And…" She paused to sniff again, and Liz frowned in annoyance. Was sniffing people some werewolf thing? "You're back at your apartment? I thought he said you would be staying until this was all sorted."

Liz glared blankly at her, hoping to convey her annoyance over the continued attention to her own affairs. "It's really _none of your concern._" Her upper lip curled unconsciously, baring her teeth slightly. Liz blinked, a quizzical look coming over her face as it occurred to her to wonder how Samar even knew. "How did you…" She trailed off, waving her in the air to allude to the rest of her sentence.

"You've got his scent on you. It's faded a little, like he didn't have a chance to renew it this morning," She paused, inhaling softly once again, "Or anytime yesterday. If you'd been still with you know who it'd have been fresher."

"_Stop sniffing me!_" She hissed quietly through clenched teeth, "I've got enough with _him _doing that, don't _you_ start as well." Liz shifted uneasily on her feet. "And how would that inform you that I was no longer staying with him? Maybe he just didn't '_renew_' it."

Samar let out a sharp bark of laughter before she cut it off sharply; glancing around to make sure the sudden noise hadn't caught anyone's attention. It hadn't, because their colleagues were freaking _genius_ investigators. The other woman turned back to Liz, an amused but sympathetic expression on her face. "Since I've been here, he has taken every possible opportunity to scent mark you that he could without drawing undue attention. I _hardly_ think he'd stop now." The other woman sniffed again, and scrunched her nose up. "And he's always a bit more… how should I say it… _heavy handed_ with it after you've been in danger."

Liz's spine stiffened. "Scent marked? Just how noticeable is it right now?" Liz asked quietly, both eyes on the pot she was scouring with the scrubby. The congealed mess of coffee stuck stubbornly to sides of the pot, but gradually was giving way to the abrasive surface and her determined scrubbing. She was slowly realizing that having someone else to talk to about this besides Red would mean that she had someone she could get answers from, and that realization had her warming slightly toward the topic and the other woman. Luckily their relationship had gotten a bit better over the last few months, even if the inconvenient stirrings of jealously still played havoc with Liz's mood at times.

Having Samar available to ask questions of and actually receive the answers she wanted was a sharp contrast to Red's reticence in providing them. Sure, he'd provided some answers about werewolves and what she could expect, but if she'd had asked _him_ something like _how much she smelled like him_, he'd just make some vague allusions that didn't answer anything at all.

Samar, luckily, didn't seem to have the patience for vague allusions. "Not like he dumped a bottle of perfume on you, if that's what you're worried about. There are scent glands along the jaw and wrists that transfer by touch. The scent left behind doesn't last very long, hence his occasional pre-occupation with find ways to mark you without anyone else noticing. Although…" She paused, sending an incomprehensible look to Liz before continuing in soft voice, "I suppose that now you know about werewolves he won't need to be so stealthy."

Liz's hand went to her neck, the memory of _Red _at her neck, acting all smug and possessive still fresh in mind, and she shivered. Liz frowned, the idea of being _marked _like some object that belonged to him provoking fresh irritation.

Samar caught her expression, and rushed to explain. "It doesn't mean anything _bad_; it is more is a way of warding off other wolves or anything dangerous."

Liz raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "Oh? And so do you allow him to 'scent mark' you?" She said caustically.

Samar looked shocked by the very idea. "He doesn't even _try_ to." Seeing that her words hadn't helped, she continued, "Werewolves don't form packs, not in the same way real wolves do. He may tolerate me in his territory, but that is only because he thinks I'll be useful in the long run. We have a sort of a… non-aggression pact, as it were. So _no_, I don't allow him to mark me, nor does he wish to. It's different with you."

Liz blinked slowly, taking in the new information. "_How_ is it different?"

Samar went shifty and deferred, "You'll have to ask him that. I've no desire to… put words into his mouth."

"Really? Because it just sounds like him being possessive and wanting to mark things as his," Liz said crossly.

Samar sighed, "That's because it _is_ him being possessive and wanting to mark things as his. But that's just not _all_ it is. And it isn't like it's one sided. It may not have been as effective when you were still human, but he still picked up your scent in return." She delicately sniffed again. "It is a bit stronger today than it usually is. But I would have found it more odd had it not been so; given how close you came to dying." Samar paused, and at Liz's puzzled look added, "The survival rate for the first few hours after someone gets exposed is only around sixty percent. Given that you weren't pre-pared for it, the expectation that you would survive the first few hours with your sanity intact was even lower than that."

An icy trickle of fear dripped down her spine. It was all too easy to remember the madness in that other werewolf's eyes as it lunged toward her throat, fangs still dripping blood from its previous victims. Liz's knuckles turned white as her grip on the coffee pot turned painfully tight; her carefully constructed composure threatening to shatter onto the break room floor as she flashed back to the darkness of the warehouse and the foul, _stinking_ breath against her face –

Liz flinched away from the other woman as she reached for her, body curling instinctively into a defensive posture.

"Agent Keen?" The other agent stepped away carefully, smoothly reacting Liz's body language and making her own as non-threatening as possible.

They were interrupted by footsteps, loud and clunky as they sounded down the corridor toward them, heralding the arrival of someone else seeking refreshment from the questionable coffee in the breakroom. Both women looked up as another agent entered the break room, and Liz used the opportunity to stage a retreat. She pushed the still dirty coffee pot at the other woman, who reflexively took it, and in a low voice said, "I've got to go finish some paperwork." Liz avoided the concern gaze directed at toward her and making her way out the door before the other could say anything.

She squeezed past the agent in the door way – not one she was overly familiar with, and not one that had impressed her as having any significant intelligence or skill – and hurried back to the safety of her office.


End file.
